


Kaleidoscope

by Thimblerig



Series: turning pieces and broken glass [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Aftermath of Torture (non-explicit), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma Recovery, We Laugh That We May Not Cry or Some Such Profundity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is living in kaleidoscope-time, all turning pieces and broken glass.  He'll find the picture later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kaleidoscope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyviel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyviel/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is living in kaleidoscope-time, all turning pieces and broken glass. He'll have to find the picture later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, Lyviel, and I hope you like your Yuletide present.
> 
> (I'm worried about matching the characterisation of your Bhaalspawn, so this one is nicknamed 'Rae', which may be short for 'Rayev' if you wish it.)

Hands are on him in the dark.

Khalid wrenches away, as far as his bonds will allow. (He has never been very brave; he doesn't think he can stand much more.) Over the harshness of his breathing words come to him - "Heya, it's me, Imoen. Wish that were more comforting. Cuttin' the left tie now, an' the blindfold..."

As soon as he's free he tumbles off the table and backs up until his back hits a corner, of a cold stone wall slimy with mildew. All the lights have gone out. He blinks his eyes into the other vision and sees the heat pattern of a young woman, arms up and reaching for him in the dark. She flinches back, and he takes her wrist with his good hand, holds her palm to his cheek.

"Um, right," she says uncertainly. "So this place is being invaded by fellas in black. They don't look too friendly. All a bit of a mess. I reckon we can cut chain while... he's... distracted. Right?"

He nods against her hand. Somewhere outside the room is the muffled _thoom_ of a distant explosion.

"I picked up some stuff. Lockpicks and potions. Missed a lot I know; my head is hurtin'. But I reckon we can sneak around some, find the others, then breathe th' sunlight an' drink air like wine... Tell me you understand."

He nods again.

"Tell me."

He ruffles her hair with his good hand and tweaks her ear.

"I am so sorry for what happened, all of it. I - Ow! What was that for, Khalid? When folk reckon you're the nice one _they lie_."

He laughs softly in his throat, and ruffles her hair again. He doesn't truly think they will make it out of here - they are too few and too broken and their enemies are great. Some battles have always been doomed to failure. But there's nothing to do but _try_ , so they'll do that.

He gets Imoen to pull on his fingers as he drinks a gelid healing potion, so that the bones heal straight, and gags a little as the cold magic trickles through his body collecting in the broken places. He blinks and -

\- he's in a great space of creaking sails and moving winds, fighting off squalling air mephits while Imoen dickers with one of the Old People of Calimshan, a creature as trapped as themselves - blink - he's in a hall lined with smoking torches grappling with a man in the equipage of an Athkatlan Shadow Thief; he clamps his white-knuckled hand over the man's mouth so he won't make a sound and alert his fellows, holds him through the shuddering of his dying - blink - in the waters of the pool a city of brass is built in a desert and grows and dies - blink - he is living in kaleidoscope-time, all turning pieces and broken glass. He'll have to find the picture later.

He can find his wife nowhere.

They fetch up in a library for the second? third time? and Imoen collapses on his shoulder, crying messily. They've been travelling in circles - Imoen has a kaleidoscope in her head as well, he thinks, and they're both too tired to steer straightly... he burrows a shelter for them in a drift of scattered books, for warmth and hiding.

He wants to tell the girl that shivering is a good thing, or at least less bad, because it means their bodies haven't given up yet. He wants to tell her that chains and magic and hurting can break any heart, but the pieces will still be there, after, to be stitched back together. He wants to tell her that everything will be all right. But he cannot: the words are drowning in his chest.

So he rubs his hand down her back, over and over, and in time black sleep finds them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _He blinks his eyes into the other vision_ \- The Forgotton Realms setting has different versions of Half-Elf sight depending on tabletop setting or BG. (Why yes, yes I did research this specifically... :-) ) Khalid canonically has Infravision.


	2. Counterpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aargh, Aunty J and Khalid are doing that thing, that -"

  
Khalid is roused from sleep by distant voices, in counterpoint -

"You meant well of course, child, but we have little resources. Wasting magic like that on a single -"

"Yes, yes, Aunty J -"

"Whilst it is indeed true that the proper issuance of fiery humour in large quantities can be cleansing and soothing to the spirit, in tactical situations -"

"Well, sure, who doesn't like a good fireball, Dynaheir? But it was a wild surge; this place is weird. Could happen to anybody! Now I've had a jolly bad day, and by 'jolly' I mean -"

He and Imoen ease out of their pile of book-leaves and pad silently around the shelves. They see the Hero of Baldur's Gate striding through the ruined library, dishevelled in a ragged shirt and dirty linen pants. One pointed ear is bent at the tip, and her reddish-brown hair sparks with static, like the fur of a cat in a thundery weather. She does not look in a happy mood.

"Imoen!"

"Rae!"

Trailing her is a fighting man, brown as a nut with the sloe eyes of Kara-Tur, who supports the witch from Rashemen, Dynaheir. She limps but carries her head high, and lets a singed hamster rest in the crook of her arm.  And behind them -

"Khalid! Where have you been?!" - _and he is in Jaheira's arms -_

"I missed you, little sister!"

"I missed you more, and you're _my_ little sister."

"This ain't a good place for an argument so I'll save time and win it now."

"Hey!"

\- _there's a smell in her sweat that he doesn't like, sweet and musky as old poppy milk, and her pupils are dilated more than they should be in this light. He buries his fingers in her russet hair and cradles the curve of her skull, while she traces her palms down his arms, across his flanks -_

"Clay golems!" says Rae brightly. "Did you know they just soak up spells like a sponge?"

"Uh, yeah," says Imoen. "I can only do cantrips an' I know that..."

_\- Jaheira's voice drops to the tones she saves just for him.  "Tell me this is no trick," she murmurs low.  "Tell me there are no mirrors and smoke and you will not vanish as soon as my eyes leave you.  Oh, I had such dreams..." -_

"Details, details. And poniards and stilettos, they don't just bounce off, they stick, it's very frustrating, except for that hand of darts, that was funny. You know what works, though?"

"Bashing it with a stick?"

"Bashing it with a stick! And then this air elemental turned up near the end (I smell nice, it's a thing) and, _brrrrr_ , powdered golem everywhere - at least an E on the E.P.I.C scale."

_\- he drops kisses in the dip above her collar-bone and the pulse-point below her jaw, and feels her take a shuddery breath. She lifts his head and he closes his eyes as they rest against each other, forehead to forehead -_

"This place is too darn creepy. I really want out of here."

"I'm with ya there, Immie.   _Aargh_ , Aunty J and Khalid are doing that thing, that -"

"Open display of affection?"

"Cover my eyes, Imoen. Save me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _there's a smell in her sweat that he doesn't like, sweet and musky as old poppy milk_ \- In the canon, Jaheira makes a comment about having been drugged while in her cell.
> 
>  _"Uh, yeah," says Imoen. "I can only do cantrips an' I know that..."_ \- Eh, when I play I keep Immie as a thief as long as I can before dual-classing. So in this version she can only do little magics right now. (Surely she got an extensive education from the mages in Spellhold, right?)

**Author's Note:**

> A note on the other stories in this series.
> 
> The AU that I started to write your gift intrigued me, Lyviel, and I wanted to write more in it. So I did. One of them ("Song of Songs") revolves around Jaheira and Khalid and is another gift for you. The other is centered on a character you didn't request (and not everybody cares for), and as such is loitering awkwardly around Yuletide whistling nonchalantly. So... you can read "Broken Earth" if you're fond of Imoen, or skip it with no hard feelings. (I have no expectations.)
> 
> Have a great Yuletide!


End file.
